


Idée Fixe

by TheDarkestMindWithin



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Actor Tom Hiddleston, Angry Tom Hiddleston, Coercion, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Food Issues, Force-Feeding, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Jealous Tom Hiddleston, Manipulation, Mental Breakdown, Mental Coercion, Mental Disintegration, POV Tom Hiddleston, Physical Abuse, Possessive Tom Hiddleston, Press and Tabloids, Sex, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content, Sexual Violence, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Villain Tom Hiddleston
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21658927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkestMindWithin/pseuds/TheDarkestMindWithin
Summary: Tom's tired of being seen as Hollywood's chronically single 'Nice-Guy', especially by a certain Miss Chelsea Brandon.So after months of planning he finally decides to get the girl he's been silently falling in love with for the past four years.AN: Previously posted as 'Obsession.'
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 61





	1. Gritty Aftertaste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rewrite of my previously posted story 'Obsession.' The same story, the same characters but just slightly different. Please read the tags before reading this story, hopefully there will be improvement with every chapter.
> 
> Without Beta.

* * *

Chelsea Brandon, for all her intelligence. All her elegant demeanour and down-to-earth nature. For all her delightful attributes. She never once realised just how delectable she was to the gaze of her admirers, or at least, she didn't care to realise.

Always parading around scantily clad in some silk teddy or other, never considering who may see her other than herself and the people she had intentionally placed around her. Not the press eager to talk to her outside the bars and restaurants frequented by her peers. Not the paparazzi lurking in the shadows, snapping every inch of her.

She usually did it to tease me, playfully stretching in her chair and moving to lean across the table just so the material of her clothes would press against her body. When we were alone on her balcony playing cards at night she would wear a particularly risqué garment, scraps of lace and sheer only barely hiding her modesty as she sat lazily at the iron table, barefoot, skin glowing in the candle and moonlight.

I ignored her teasing mostly, playing along and drinking as if my cock didn't itch to be buried deep within her warm cunt, placing my cards down with hers as if I wasn't thinking about making her beg for release as I took what was rightfully mine from her on the very table we sat at now. I smirk as if I have a good hand hidden and not at the thought of her bent over and taking my cock.

Roughly fucking her into oblivion until she swore absolute obedience to me and only me. She smiles and takes a sip of the spikes wine in her glass. I clear my throat and place my cards down against hers, shifting in my seat as subtly as I can, my now painful erection safely hidden in the new position.

"Urgh!" Her expression sours as she puts her now empty glass back down on the table besides our cards. "That tasted terrible, Tom!" Chelsea continues, picking up the now empty bottle from the floor, examining the label carefully as if it would hold the answer to the awful taste. "The usual stuff you bring me doesn't leave such a salty taste in your mouth." She adds, scowling at the offending glass and bottle as if expecting it to apologise for it's foul taste. I couldn't help myself but to laugh at her expression, not that it earned me much favour in her eye.

"Noted," I say still laughing as I rearranged my hand of cards, acting as nonchalant as possible as Chelsea moved on from the offending beverage and took her turn, taking longer than she had previously as the drug now wholly in her system began to take effect. Making her movements more sluggish, I smirked inwardly as he lucidity slipped away with each ticking second. I admit I was surprised I had gotten the whole bottle of wine into her system before the unavoidable salty aftertaste took effect.

I knew from my extensive research that the drink would leave a somewhat gritty and salty aftertaste but had attempted to combat the risk of Chelsea noticing too soon by doubling the prescribed dosage, the result being that it only took another five minutes after the last drop of the drink had been consumed for her to be on the edges of unconsciousness and thus deciding that she couldn't play anymore. She made a weak attempt to get up from her seat, managing to stand for a total of two seconds before she fells back into her seat, admitting to drinking to drinking too much before she asked me for help.

I obliged and helped her from her seat, her body dead weight in my arms as her legs gave way beneath her, her speech was slurred now as we made our way inside, the cards and candles forgotten as we went.

"It's okay, let's get you into bed." I murmur softly as I scooped her easily up into my arms and continued towards her bedroom, my plan now finally in effect after months of careful planning. Everything in place perfectly as I entered Chelsea's bedroom and laid her down in the middle of her bed. All I could do now was hope that she would not resist everything that would follow for too long. My thoughts began to run wild when I began to strip her of her ocean blue teddy. Revealing her soft skin, goosebumps raising in wake of my fingers as I brushed the pads of my thumbs along her taunt belly.

"Oh, the fun we're going to have baby girl." I coo once Chelsea is naked beneath me, softly murmuring as she attempts to push my hands from her body, only just aware enough to know and feel everything that was about to happen to her.


	2. Waffles.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chelsea wakes up from the night before questioning why she has men's clothes on her bedroom floor.
> 
> Sometimes things are best left unanswered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rewrite continues.
> 
> Without Beta.

* * *

I feel weighted. Heavy, like the duvet covering my body weighs a tonne. My head feels fuzzy too, like someone has wrapped everything in mesh around me and hadn't told me. I sit up from my pillows and the room sways around me with the movement. I feel sick but nothing comes up, I inhale slowly and plant the palms of my hands down against the mattress. Grounding me. I groan and wince as the new position only adds to the ache of my body, I must've drunk more than I had thought I had last night. I look around the room, hoping that something in here would shed some light on what happened last night.

I frown when I see the clothes thrown around, very unlike me, strewn on the floor and over my wardrobe and chair. Clothes that are not mine. What happened last night? I had been drinking, drinking with Tom. Tom had been here last night. We had been play cards and then -

I try to think more carefully, trying to remember what had happened in between, we had had dinner but that had come before the drinking and the cards. Hadn't it? Everything is muddled in the back of my head. I must have gone over it a dozen times but to no avail. Everything always stopped when the bottle of wine had been finished. I moan again and start to move from under the duvet, fearing I would throw up, I manage to get out from under the bed despite the weight of it. I needed to throw up. Or maybe I needed to pee?

I pause in the middle of the room, naked and slowly growing colder when the bedroom door pushed open, allowing an equally naked Tom to slip inside the room with a tray full of breakfast in his hands. I stare at him, my heart pounds at the sight. I'm confused. I'm something else but I don't know what yet. "Awake already!" Tom says, he sounds surprised. I stay still as the door is clicked shut behind me. He smiles brightly at me. As if this is normal. This is not normal.

"I'm surprised after all you put away last night," He continues walking to the bed and putting down the tray, I turn and watch him as he does. What happened last night? The question only increases in urgency to be answered. What did _we_ do last night? I fear the answer. His arms wrap tenderly around me before I even realise he's besides me, kisses my cheek with familiarity as he carefully guides me back to the bed. He tucks me back under the heavy duvet without protest. Steals another kiss from my cheek before he retreats his touch from my body.

"I whipped you up some waffles, I know how much you love them." Tom says, grinning as he climbs into the bed besides me, his feet cold against mine as he slips beneath the duvet, he ignores my recoil as he cuts up pieces of waffle and spears them with his fork, My mind is racing to catch up with itself. "Open wide!" Tom says cheerily, I follow his request and mechanically open my mouth as he places a piece of waffle in my mouth. I chew as he snuggles in closer to me. Popping a piece of cut strawberry in his mouth as he does.

I chew mechanically. Without speaking. "Obviously we have lots to discuss," Tom says after he'd fed me several more pieces of waffle and he had eaten a few strawberries. His statement leaves my stomach curling. I don't know why. "But before we do get down to what this means, I just want to say I'm so happy we've both finally come to our senses," My stomach drops.

"We'll be good for each other," He adds, as if I've been talking too and not just silent and still. He brings the glass of orange juice to my lips, smiling as I take a sip of the too sweet juice. He places the glass back down once I'm finished drinking.

He moves so he sits better behind me, sighing with contentment as he guides me to rest back against his chest, his fingers slipping to brush against my breast every few moments, rhythmic and a supposedly calming gesture. A would be calling gesture if the missing events of last night hadn't come back to me, slowly at first and then all at once.

_I had been raped by my best friend._


	3. Cascade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without Beta.

* * *

I berate myself once the ordeal of breakfast is finished with and Tom has left me to shower alone. I asses the damage done to my body in the reflection of the mirror hanging before me. It was all my fault that this had happened. I couldn't deny or escape the fact that this was my fault. I had teased Tom for too long, for too many years. Flirting with me at every given chance, taunting him with clothing that exposed too much flesh. Each piece more scandalous than the last, each saying far more than words ever could.

I had been too open with Tom, free in sharing all the details of my life with him, he returned just as much as I gave. I deserved what happened last night. He had read the signals that I had given him and had acted one what he had thought I wanted. He had grown tired of being patient. He had done enough waiting for something that never would happen otherwise. It was my fault that this had happened.

My fault and not his. He hadn't been the one parading himself around half naked, he hadn't been the one to always start flirting first, to make the nuanced advances that had become so ingrained in our routine that the only response was to flirt back. He hadn't been the one putting his body on display for me every chance he had. No, I had been goading him.

I look at the fresh bruises on my throat from his mouth, where his mouth had done more than just whispering, the imprint on the inside of my thighs from where his fingers had done more than just holding cards. Bile rises in my throat as I thought about what else had been done to create the unmistakable ache between my thighs.

Did I cum? I wonder as I lean into the shower and turn the tap for the water to start running.

Did Tom? I take off my bathrobe and hang it up on the back of the door.

If he did, did he cum inside? I take my hair down from the messy bun I had put it in when examining myself in the mirror.

Did he use protection? I step inside. Steam fogs the glass walls surrounding me.

Was it more than once? I face my head up towards the hot stream of water, it hits my skin and I feel like I can breathe again.

Did I need to go take one of the pills in my bathroom cabinet? I run my fingers through my hair and down my body, I wash away any leftover trace of him.

The water cascades over my hair and down my body as my head began to swim with unanswered question. The glass room filling with steam. Flashes of last night bleed into my thoughts. Why didn't I say no?

His reassurances as his fingers ran along my jaw and wrapped around my throat.

The burn in the back of my throat when he stretched my lips around the tip of his pink cock.

His whispered voice as sweet nothings were cooed into my ear as his body loomed over mine.

My gasps when his cock pressed at my slit.

My moans.

His gasps.

My cries.

His grunts.

The pull and tug that tore away at my belly as I succumbed to the pleasure he bestowed so violently on my body. 

I sob against the stream of water, the water hitting the tiles loud enough to engulf the sounds and keep them from escaping.


	4. Shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without Beta.

* * *

Chelsea eats her breakfast, with a few encouragements from myself of course. Nibbles slow on each piece of nourishment, my fingers guiding the food to her lips when she hesitates. Her smile is thankful and mute. I let her go to the shower once the food has been cleared and the drinks finished, remain in bed as I watch her hesitant steps guide her to the adjoining bathroom. I leave to clean away the breakfast things once the water in the shower begins running. Tidying away the things I had used to prepare breakfast as I examine the familiar kitchen. Of course there would have to be things to change now. Furniture renewed, appliances brought, all sorts of things really. Looking over the diet plan pinned to the fridge door, the protein shakes made up inside the cool container, far too many unsuitable things that wouldn't suit the life I plan to start building with her. Why I had let her go on with all the weight gaining and cutting for various different roles for so long was beyond me, but I was here now and I wouldn't let the ridiculousness carry on any longer than it already had.

I knew roughly what I wanted changing already, having planned for my eventual presence in her home long before today. I look at the meal plan and wrinkle my nose with disgust. Taking the dreadful think down and screwing it up before throwing it into the bin. I pick up the pad of paper and pen on the counter top and create a new list of groceries. The lounge and living-room would have to be refurbished too. The current furniture not appropriate at all, too vintage and styled for looks rather than practicality. I add it to the list, writing as I move around the rooms and out into the hall, going upstairs to the second floor. Unfortunately the spiral shape of the metal staircase could not be changed. I enter her office and start by looking through her calendar and schedule. Flicking through the pages as I glazed over the various different meetings and shoot locations she had to meet over the coming weeks.

I was halfway through the month when I heard Chelsea's footsteps padding along the staircase, approaching timidly as I turned and watched her turn the corner, appearing in the office doorway wrapped up in a large fluffy dressing gown, her hair wet and slicked back as she leaned hesitantly against the doorway. "Are you off?" She asks quietly, her voice strained as she tugged the tie around her gown tighter, as if it was a second skin, I smiled as I pushed her diary shut, turning to lean against the edge of the desk as I shook my head. "No, my schedules clear for another few days. I thought we could spend it together? You don't have anything on till tomorrow anyway." I say, noting the hard swallow of her throat as she stared at her diary behind me and then back at me. "Oh." She uttered. "Come and sit," I offer with no real intention of choice as I gesture to the large sofa off to the side, so many nights I had found her laying there reading a script or writing another short story, I smile fondly at the memory as Chelsea carefully sat in one of the seats, careful to keep the gown from riding up her leg too much.

"Tom-" Chelsea began carefully, her gaze barely meeting mine as she did, I conceal the triumphant smirk at this clear act of submission, humming in response instead of answering directly. I began looking through her diary again. Many things would have to be rearranged, I think absently as I wait for Chelsea to summon the courage to ask whatever she desired to know. "Last night, did we- ?" She struggles to finish her question, her cheeks and the tips of her ears burning pink as I smile and trap her gaze with mine. "Have sex? Yes." I say bluntly, watching the way her eyes flinch away from mine and the guilt threatens to bubble up into tears. "Don't you remember?" I ask, feigning worry as I abandon her diary and approach her with carefully constructed care, she didn't shy away from me, rather she remained trapped under my touch. "No," She admits in a tremble, looking at me with her eyes full of tears and fear. I hold her close as she cries into my chest, her hands clinging to my bare skin as I soothe her.

"I didn't take advantage of you, darling," I say, continuing with my charade of worry as I bring Chelsea's eyes back up to mine. "You were perfectly clear in your desires," I say, blinking as she stares at me with an unreadable expression. Somewhere between shame and disbelief. "I don't - ?" Her voice trembles. "Oh, darling," I soothe, drawing her back into me. "You're probably just hungover, you drank quite a bit of wine last night. You just need some more sleep." I suggest, gently moving to stand up, bringing Chelsea with me as she nodded along to my words, clinging to any alternative to whatever horrors her mind had brought up. "Come on, I'll make you some tea?" I offer as I carefully walk her back down the staircase, guiding her towards our bedroom as she sniffed and wiped her face with the sleeve of her gown.

"I'm sorry." She says quietly, as I help her under the sheets, settling her head against the pillows as I smile and caress my fingers over her still damp hair, shaking my head dismissive of her apology. "I guess next time I'll just have to try to be more memorable," I say with a wink, she gives me a weak smile but I can see that she wants to squash any talk of a next time. I don't mind. There was more than one way to be intimate. I kiss her temple before leaving her to rest. A little time and she would come to accept my plans for us. The shame would of not remembering last night would keep her from reaching out to someone and in the mean time I could go about setting up the new perimeters for her life with me.


	5. Patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without Beta.

* * *

My chest feels hollow. Like he's taken everything from inside me, carved me into an empty shape and left me barely sewn back together. I feel like dead weight. Like my body was holding me down, Smothering me with a pillow over my face or holding me down under water. I figure both things lead to the same thing. You end up suffocating and dying either way, it doesn't matter how you got there. A day passes, maybe longer, he brings me food and I stay mostly in the bedroom, in bed or sitting at the vanity. He's taken my phone and my laptop, anything I could use to connect with the outside world. I don't bring it up and neither does he. Maybe he hasn't realised? Maybe he just wants to make sure I'm okay before I go back to my schedule. He must have taken care of my agent and everyone else because no-one has come to see me and no-one has called. I'm grateful really, because Tom really is just trying to look after me, in his own way.

I sit at my vanity, my hair wet from my shower, I take a lot of them now, I try to wash away the unease but it never works, or if it does Tom always comes back and undoes it. "Darling? I made you some tea?" He knocks on the already open bedroom door and comes in before I say anything, I smile at him the best I can as he sets the cup down on the table, I swallow thickly and try to keep my flinch under his touch at bay as his fingers run through my wet hair. He smiles and kisses the crown of my head. "It's okay," Tom says and I wish I could believe him. I wish the gnawing fear wasn't present but it is and I want to get away before I no longer can. "What would you like for dinner?" He asks, smiling as he fingers continue playing with my hair. I want to tell him that I have a diet to follow. That I have a training session tonight, but I don't. He smiles and nods his head. "Drink the tea, it'll help." He kisses the crown of my head again and retreats from the room. I watch him go in the mirror of the vanity, holding my breath when he stops and turns at the door. "I know," He says, waiting for me to turn and face him in my seat.

"I know it's going to take some time before you understand everything that's happening, Chelsea. But this is for the best." Tom says, smiling as he watches me for reaction. I offer nothing more than a nod of my own head accompanied by a fixed smile, which he knows isn't genuine but accepts nonetheless. "Now! I'm going to fix dinner, you stay here and be a good girl for me." I nod my head again and watch him leave, pulling the door shut behind him. I turn back to my vanity and let the breath I'd been holding in out. Sobs follow quickly, as if I'd never stopped in the first place. I feel sick, dirty, soiled. I gulp the tea Tom had brought me down and crawl back into bed, I cry myself into unconsciousness and hope to wake up and find everything that has happened to have been a sick nightmare.

* * *

I listen outside the door for a few moments after I leave Chelsea. She does what she always does after I've left now, cries, drinks her tea and then crawls into bed to sleep. Good, I think as I retreat back into the kitchen where I've already begun cooking, she wasn't fighting against what I was telling her to do. I had expected her to object to having anything to eat, knowing that she was meant to be on a diet for some frivolous role, not that she would be keeping it now that I had started my plan. I had also been expecting her to bring up the training session she had tonight too, but she hadn't. Chelsea had remained mute to any commitments she may have and so I had left her without prompting her. Perhaps she could see they were unimportant now, but I doubted such a drastic revelation, she was still Chelsea after all. Hard working, stubborn, she would object to being kept in and away from her work eventually and when she did, I would be prepared.

I had spent close to a year working out these plans after all. Meticulous in my planning of the coming months, the delicacy required to handling Chelsea. I had laid the groundwork in ensuring that no-one would suddenly suspect anything out of the ordinary happening when we would go public. I had taken the steps to ensure the coming weeks were clear in our schedules, having duplicated and edited Chelsea's planner privately already, where she may think she had projects coming up, diets to follow and training sessions to attend, she really only had empty days. Everything had been set into motion from the moment she had let me inside the flat and she would soon realise and accept that what I was doing was in both of our best interests.

I tuck away her planner in the cupboard beneath the sink, behind some cleaning products and bin bags. Chelsea's phones, both personal and work related, were tucked away in the study, she wouldn't need to use them for awhile and besides I was more than capable of keeping in contact with those who may wish to raise the alarm if they didn't hear from Chelsea for a couple of days. The drugs in her tea would have worn off by now so I go and take her some water and salty crackers. She's laying in bed, reading, glasses perched on the end of her nose. "Thanks," She sighs, sitting up and setting her book on the side table as I hand her the plate of crackers and glass of water. Always more compliant and docile after a dosing. "Dinner will be ready soon, do you need anything else?" I offer, stepping back to the door as I do, watching the way her eyes flicker quickly to her side table and back again, drinking the water before she shakes her head. Deciding against whatever she was going to ask for, I imagine her phone or laptop. I smile and leave her alone again. A few weeks and she would settle, I assure myself as I check on the meat in the oven. It would just be a matter of patience.


	6. And We Were Doing So Well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without Beta.

* * *

She accepts the plate full of food I place in front of her without objection. Tentatively picking up her knife and fork as she looks at the meal glaring up at her from the table with wary eyes. The perfectly cooked meat and accompanying sides she delicately collects onto her fork met with a thin line of her mouth. She knew I had spared no thought to her supposed diet when adding the calerie dense goose fat onto the roasted potatoes or the cream that had been used to thicken the rich gravy sitting on the table besides her plate, handle facing her, challenging her to decline its flavourful company to her sprouts and carrots. I spare her the challenge of having to find conversation while we eat. Knowing the drugs still lingered in her mind, foggy the finer details of her memory. "I spoke to your sister earlier, she was calling to ask what we're planning to get your parents for their anniversary." Chelsea's attentions sharpen when her sister is mentioned. "Anna-Grace?" There's an edge of desperation as she says her lawyer sister's name. "Elizabeth." I say, popping a potato into my mouth, catching the fall of her hope at the name of her nursery school teacher sister.

_"Oh."_ She eats the sprout on the tip of her fork without thought. I pretend I don't notice the fleeting changes and smile. "I told her we would be getting that crystal vase your mother had been admiring last time she visited." I explain casually, as if we had already discussed her mother's gift and picked it out together on a day out. "And that maybe Anna-Grace would be of more help in deciding on a gift for dad." I add, slicing a piece of the lamb and delicately stabbing it with my fork. Dinner lapses into silence between us, Chelsea thoughtful and hopeless.

Only after dinner has been finished do we begind speaking again. Chelsea hesitant as I place down large slice of triple chocolate fudge cake where her dinner plate had been moments ago. She stares at the slice with apprehension. "Double cream to go with it." I add innocently, smiling as I place the small dish full of treacherous dishful of creamy white liquid. "I know it's your favourite," Smiling as I take my place opposite her. "Hmm!" Is the subtly overwhelmed reply given as she picks up the dish of cream and pours a little along the side of the plate, missing the cake almost entirely. "Oh, come on, Chelsea." I say, getting up from my chair to go back to her side, much to her thinly veiled horror. "Just treat yourself!" I pour the rest of the cream over her cake, watching her face as she tries to hide the despair growing behind her eyes, fighting to turn her tightly pressed lips into a cry of objection and horror. "There!" I settle the newly empty dish down and retake my seat for the last time.

"Eat up!" My tone is cheery as I pick up my own fork and scoop up a piece of cake from my considerably smaller and creamless slice. Wisely, Chelsea chooses not to mention the difference and instead stuffs her mouth full of cake without complaint. I watch her, studying her for any sign that she would throw the mouthfuls back up or decline to finish her food, to my admiration she manages to eat most of the cake, bar some of the extra fudgy icing spread between tiers. "Come on, darling, a few more mouthfuls and then you're done." I encourage, smilng when Chelsea blanches at the mere mention of eating any more of the despicably rich cake in front of her. "Oh, I couldn't!" She says thickly, a touch of fear in her eye as she looks at me, studying in her own way, waiting to see my verdict. I smile and lean back into my chair. "No, I suppose you're right! It will keep till tomorrow anyway." I pick up our plates and carry them off to the counter, catching the dreading slump of Chelsea's shoulders at the mention of eating the rest of the cake tomorrow. She remains silent as I soak the plates, cleaning them of any lasting evidence of our meal together. I put her stillness down to trying to keep her food down more than being relaxed and full.

"Maybe you'd like to go relax in the living-room while I clean up everything?" I suggest when silence had stretched on between us and most of the plates and cutlery had been set aside to dry, Chelsea almost jumps at the sudden occurence of my voice but quickly settles, turning to look over her shoulder and smiling as easily as she can make herself do. "No, I can't make you tidy everything after you cooked!" She jumps to her feet nervously. "No. I'll - I'll take the rubbish out. To say thanks, it's the least I can do!" She says hastily grabbing the barely full rubbish bag from the bin, looking to the hook where all her keys usually resided breifly, the false smile and calm faltering when she sees all keys, bar her car keys, have disappeared. I pretend I haven't noticed her nervous posture, the rising panic in her eyes and her voice. "T - Tom." Admittedly my cock jumps at how my name sounds stuttered between her lips. I look up from the sink and hum. As if I haven't been following along with what she's been saying at all. Toying with her is somewhat irresistable. "Chelsea?" I prompt when she's failed to say anything, her now glassy eyes fluttering between the front door and the keyless key hooks.

"Where are the door keys?" She approaches the door as if it's a wild animal, wary of it's cold wooden exterior as if it would suddenly turn on her and attack. "The bolts on and I can't get it off." She adds, testing the bolt as she speaks. I had made sure to double check it before calling her out for dinner. "Door keys? Why would you need the door keys?" I frown as if confused as she turns her face back to mine, her expression pained at how I was failing to understand what she was asking for. She takes a ragged breath, as if to calm herself as I dried my hands with a dishcloth. "Yes, the door's locked, so I need the key." She says in a rush, her hands having started to tremble now, reaching the end scraps of her composure. I smile, innocent and wolfish as I begin to unbuckle my belt. She was leaning heavily against the door now for support, her breaths were becoming uneven and she was struggling to keep her eyes on mine. I act as if she is the picture of calm. "The rubbish can wait." I assure as I approach her, like a beast stalking its prey. "Besides, I thought you wanted to _thank_ me for the meal I just cooked for you?" I coo, my warm breath fluttering over her face as she presses her back flush against the door, swallowing nervoursly when she realises I have effectively trapped her. "Hmm, it's only good manners." I murmur as I pick at a frayed thread on the collar of the t-shirt she was wearing, privately enjoying the shudder that runs through her when the pad of my finger touches her naked skin. "Come on, I know just what you can do to show me how _thankful_ you are." I coo once more, cupping her cheek with my hand, smirking as the pad of my thumb swipes away the stray tears rolling down her cheek. Debating whether I should take her here or in the bedroom. "Please, Tom - ?" Her voice cracks as I begin to undo my trousers, shushing her with the pad of my thumb as her eyes flutter shut and fresh tears fall down her cheeks, her body shakes as I gently push her onto her knees.

"It's okay, little lamb. It's okay, you have plenty of time to learn." I press my thumb to her jaw, popping her sweet lips apart before gliding my leaking head over her cheek, once, twice, thrice, before I enter past her trembling lips and constricted throat. 


	7. Right Back To Where We Started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2021 
> 
> Without Beta.

I felt suspended.

As if I had been dropped into the middle of scene without warning or prior knowledge.

It's one of those famous and flashy events that was always played out and repeated over days and weeks in all the news outlets and gossip columns. What was she wearing? Who was he kissing? Where was her ring? Where was his wife? I could remember reading every inch of these fatuous articles with an almost starving eye. Desperate for even the tinies crumb just for a taste of what it must have been like to be those people snapped in the photo. Sometimes posed and sometimes completely caught off-guard. Never did I ever really think I would be one of them.

But here I was. Posing for voices masked behind flashing cameras who all yell my name one over the other, hoping to catch me at just the right angle. It felt surreal. Like someone was about to pinch me and I would wake up, no-one ever did. There was no objection when it came time to be escorted inside the coveted walls of the event. Landing in a room thart felt as if it had been taken directly from a movie set. From a movie that was mad in the gold era of Hollywood. A bygone era. The event itself meant little more than a photo op and an open bar of unspeakably rare and expensive alcohol. A place to make connections with the right director or writer. To shake hands with the right agent and share a joke with the right actor. A place to exchange workplace gossip over smiling lips and lipstick stained champagne flutes. 

I was here as a plus-one. Well, a collective plus-one really. It had been a group invitation to myself and five other actors considered _'newcomers'_ to the industry, we'd spend the evening among the stars we'd idolised and in exchange we'd lend our _'fresh'_ presence to those who were beginning to dwindle in the eye of the media. We'd been assigned our own _unofficial_ chaperones for the night. Those who still remembered their own early days, trying to get their name connected to someone else's. The kind of name that became invaluable when building a reputation. Each other us had dropped off after stepping inside the event. Snapped up by famous faces that left you slightly breathless after seeing them on screen. I was the last left. Waiting.

I felt suspended.

Until he approached me. Smiling with pearly whites that on someone else would set you on edge but on him, they only served to welcome you in close.

Tom Hiddleston.

* * *

I was over it before it had even begun. Flashy dinner events that very rarely meant anything more than making better connections. A handshake with a director there, a polite laugh with an actor somewhere else. It was all a game of building reputation as you filled up on bite-sized food and ridiculous alcohol. I was only in attendance due to a prior agreement to act as a glorified chaperon for one of these bright and perky new things that the media were so obsessed over. Her name escapes me prior to the evening and I hadn't bothered to find it out again, sure that she would be nothing more than a thoughtless pretty face with as little more personality than a soggy cardboard box. I had been so wrong. I'd only agreed at the start because I still, foolishly, remembered my own early days in the industry. The years I spent trying to get my name connected to the right director or face remembered by a proficient writer. I wonder through the buzzing building with little appetite for conversation being far from my social best. Eventually the first flute of champagne I had been nursing disappears and forms into a second one and around this time I am introjuiced to my quasi-ward of the evening.

She was a timid thing, all legs and shy smiles. I found myself instantly attracted to her. I could imagine her lean stature fitting so wonderfully besides mine, the subtle curves of her body obviously natural unlike so many others. I see myself grabbing the globes of her perky breasts and kneading them round as I fuck her into a wall. Maybe, just maybe, tonoght hadn't been a bad decision after all. I run my fingers through my hair and straighten my posture before I approach where she is standing. She's been caughgt up in conversation with Rob and Don, she laughs shyly by covering her mouth with her hand and Rob shines that rarely seen smile at her. A wave of possessiveness washes over me as I slip between him and her without drawing attention to the fact.

"Tom, man!" Don greets, throwing an arm around me for a brief hug, I smile and place my sans flute hand around his back. "You alright. mate? I see you two are keeping my quasi-ward company!" I casually place my hand to her lower back and smile at her, her cheeks flush and she looks quickly away but doesn't shy away from my touch. This would be easier than I thought. "You're the one Chelsea's been waiting for?" Rob asks, clearly a pinch to his ego as I nod, silently grateful that he had saved me much embaressment by letting her name slip. "Indeed, I am! Though, from the looks of things, I think she's making friends just fine without me." Again, she blushes under the compliment and drinks from the glass in her hand. "Chelsea, you've got my number. Tom." Don says as he retreats towards the bar where he'd just been called over to by RDJ and his goonies. Leaving us with the man of the moment. "How's batman coming, Tom?" I ask conversationally as I test the waters and start rubbing my thumb in soft circles on her back. The dip of her dress allowing me to touch her smooth skin.

"Can't complain." He says, always refusing to discuss his roles lest he found influence in places he had no wish to. "Anyway, I best be getting back to John and Liz, we came as a group and I don't fancy my chances if they leave without me." He smiles a goodbye to Chelsea before he retreats into the now crowded room. Chelsea watches him go. A stab of jealousy makes itself known in the pit of my stomach. "Can I get you another drink? Then we can get to business?" I offer, drawing her attentions back to me, she looks up and nods her head, we walk our way to the bar. My hand still on her lower back.


End file.
